Shut the fck about moonmen!
by baddie-boop
Summary: A collection of one shots I wrote about Rick x reader. Many are smutty! Please read, review, and enjoy! :)
1. Delivery girl

You and Rick sat on his rundown couch, a vapor trailing from your lips as you breathed heavily in the frigid garage. You were both beaten, bloodied, and studded with various black and blue spots after a horrid adventure on Gazorpazorp. Rick looked over to you just in time to see one of the strands fall from your loose bun, and fall across your sullen eyes. He felt his chest tighten as his heart began to beat a bit louder.

Long, long before Rick was joining his grandson on dangerous adventures, he was sending you out on some of the most treacherous errands known to man. It didn't matter if you were going on Cannibal Island to fetch an exotic party drink, or cult-ish planet, Borgismorg, to bring back a multicolored bong, Rick would send you, often with curtness, and would refuse to retrieve you. Once, you were fighting off a hoard of a pack of green colored, cyborg elephants while calling Rick, begging for rescue. As soon as you heard his gruff voice belch into the phone, you frantically screamed your locations and for Rick to bring as many weapons as he could - only for him to ask if this was the pizza man, calling to apologize about Rick's missing beer, and hang up when you said you weren't. You ended up coming home with alien elephant liver in your hair, and the realization that Rick was perfectly willing to let you die. But then this mission happened.

The crummy delivery ship Rick had built you crashed on the planet Gazorpazorp: a place you were far too aware of it's dangers. You didn't even try to call Rick before a herd of Gazorpians grabbed you and dragged you, kicking and screaming, back to their clan. Luckily, for no particular reason, Rick felt that something was wrong and, lazily, looked at the tracker he had placed on your delivery ship. Choking on his flask, he realized where you were and ran into his ship, without a second thought.

And now, even on the couch, he wasn't sure how you two had managed to escape. He had crashed landed his ship into the largest hut there, killing a few Gazorpians, and found you, standing before a crowd of them, shimming up a long pole so as to escape their grasp. The two of you had used guns and bombs and your fists to fight them off, even headbutting a few. But you could still taste the blood on your tongue, and feel the teeth you had swallowed moving down your gut. Your rib had a stabbing ache, while your temple had a dull pain to it. While you were counting your lucky stars that the Gazorpians hadn't gotten what the originally wanted, Rick was staring at you.

You felt his gaze, and turned to see a drowning, deep sadness in his dark eyes. In all the years you had worked together, never before had you seen so much emotion on his face. And, yet, here he was, his eyes beginning to water slightly. And even though you two had fought so many times before about his rudeness, his coldness, his selfishness - the thought of him actually showing something other than the consistent personality you had always seen…terrified you.

"Rick, don't look so sad. Everything's going to be alright." You said, letting out a nervous laugh. He smiled slightly, but the look of guilt of was still in his eyes.

Briefly, his eyes looked away from yours, and, instead, focused on your hands. Your knuckles, which had received the most of the violence, were purpled, swollen, and radiating pain. He took them in his hands, enwrapping them in a soft warmth that broke through the frigid cold air, and lifted them up to his lips. You were so shocked, that, even if you wanted to speak, you couldn't, as your throat had tightened to a point of muteness. He placed soft, warm kisses on your bloodied knuckles, his eyes closed and the breath of his nose falling on your hands. His lips trailed up your arms. And, before they lingered in the crook of your neck, you found yourself closing your eyes, and letting out a shaky exhale. You felt him inhale the scent of your hair, and his shoulders relaxed as he did. And then, his kisses, leaving the line of your jaw, finally latched onto your lips. His hands, rough and sore as well, cupped your cheeks and glided through the strands of your hair. He pulled you into the kiss, hungrily almost, as your own hands softly fell onto his chest. You could feel a tear stream down his cheek against your own blushing face, and, from the placement of your palms, the vibrations of his beating heart pulsed against the contact. Abruptly, he tore away from the kiss to tightly squeeze his arms around you and bury his head in your shoulder.

There was silence for a long time, and all you could hear was your own heart pulsating in your ears. Despite the nervous fluttering of butterflies in your stomach, and the sweating of your palms, and the searing heat of your face, all you felt was a sopping sort of tenderness to the lanky drunk crying into your shoulder. The fact that there was a soft jelly beneath his rough, jagged exterior - one that felt pain and longing and, maybe, even desire - just intensified the honor of having such a vulnerable inside be shown to you. You were so welled up with gratitude, flattery, and sympathy, that you couldn't even move. You felt so much on the inside, that you went a bit numb on the outside. And, God, it was so good.

You felt him slowly unravel around you, his eyes not looking up to your's. Until, finally, he sat up straight, turned to reach his flask, chugged it, let out a belch, and then turned back to look you dead center in your eyes. As if he hadn't just passionately kissed you, and none of this had happened, he said, "I'm fine, bitch. J-just -urp- fine. Now stop being such a mother hen and focus m-more on not fucking up so much on the next job, okay? I d-don't wanna have to save your defenseless ass again."

Despite his sudden change in behavior, you knew the truth. That the tenderness he had shown for you wasn't gone, it was just disguised. And, as you suspected he would, he joined you on every single trip after.


	2. Pink Handcuffs

You and Rick had been fooling around for some time now. Since Rick had first spotted you taking Snuffles out for a walk (Morty was always forgetting, so Summer recommended you to Beth as a dog walker), it was clear that he found you attractive - but nothing more. For months, most of your discussions would involve him spewing out insulting jokes that were almost as deprecating as those of your four older brothers. But due to your endurance towards such tormenting, it became something of a competition. He would come up with a new insult everyday and see if it would make you cry, or shudder, or, at least, flinch. But it never worked. You were impervious. Guarded. Sturdy. All with a sweet, polite demeanor that remained even when you managed to throw your own quips at the drunk.

You would be lying, of course, if you said that usual polite, well-mannered nature continued into Rick's bedroom (well, garage). Even Rick commented about your foul mouth, which would produce some of the most creative curse words when he had your ass up in the air to be pounded by his strong thrusts. You couldn't recall, really, when this whole tryst began, but you certainly didn't want to end. After years of being treated like a fragile bird by almost all men, Rick's brazenness was both refreshing and exhilarating. Sometimes he would curse at you when he was just about to release, calling you "slut" and "whore" through clenched teeth. Other times, when you were too shy to take off your shirt and show him your breasts, he would rip off your clothes and fuck you in front of mirror, pulling on your hair to ensure that you looked into your sweaty, blushing reflection.

And though you did love it: the toughness of his hands that would claw at your skin, and the rough, deep moans he would let slip out, you found that old habits die hard - and you missed the sweet, tender sex you once had with the previous men of your life. You once asked Rick if you could try a night of tenderness, but he just bent you over the kitchen counter and slammed into you while whipping a wooden spoon against your ass. The first time he came to your apartment, he found romantic candles lit throughout the bedroom. However, those candles would be used to pour hot wax on your shoulder blades. And though the searing, fresh sting of wax on your skin made you cum wildly, you still missed the night of romance you were hoping for. It wasn't until you and Rick visited a sex shop together that he said, out right, his refusal to be romantic.

"It just makes things -burp- complicated. I-I mean, the thing that makes this so fricken' great is that there is no r-romance. I mean, we-we're just too wild animals fucking each other's brains out, baby!"

"Rick, even wild animals cuddle."

As he absent mindedly perused a shelf of sex tapes, he retorted, "Uh, I high-burp-ly doubt that, babe. W-wild animals don't have the arm span to e-even spoon". You let out a loud sigh, annoyed by Rick's sarcasm. But then you spotted a pair of furry, pink handcuffs and a mischievous idea lurked into your mind. Excitedly, you asked Rick if he would buy you the frilly restraints. With a sly grin, he happily did so, remarking how he was glad you had given up on this whole "romantic bullshit stuff". You said nothing, only scheming of all the terrible things you were going to do now that you could actually tie him down.

Later that afternoon, Rick was lying, completely exposed except for his white briefs, on your bed, watching the blaring TV before him. He heard the lock click from your bathroom, and you exited, wearing some lace lingerie with the furry handcuffs dangling from your index finger. He clicked off the tv and let out his usual lusty chuckle as you slithered over to him. He reached out to grab your hips once you climbed atop him, and you already felt a clothed bulge beneath you begin to rise.

"Put your hands over your head, please.", you ordered sensually. Snickering like a child, he did so - making this the first time he had ever actually followed one of your commands. Quickly, you clicked the cuffs on and slid your hands down his slender arms before resting them on his chest.

"See, isn't this w-way better then all of that mushy-love-shit?"

"Oh, Rick…",You cooed."You actually thought I had given up on that?"

His eyes widened before you, giggling like a schoolgirl, slammed yourself into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his ribs. He howled and resisted and struggled to escape his restraints, while you just buried your blushing, smiley face into the crook of his neck. Even after his grumbling curses faded away, your sweet giggle could still be heard emanating from his collar bone.

"G-god, what awful -burp- tortures are you going to put me through!?", He griped.

"Oh, you know, the absolute worst: cuddling, spooning, feeding you chocolate covered strawberries-"

"Oh god, no! Please, let's j-just get this over with."

"Soon, my sweet. Soon.", You said, snuggling deeper into his chest.

"Aw, w-what am I supposed to do while you're having your-your personal l-love fest!? J-j-just sit here and-and…count dust particles!?"

Without even looking up, you grabbed the TV remote and clicked the on button. As a show blared it's blue glare on you two, you heard Rick let out a loud exhale, finally feeling him relax against the restraints. You released a small squeal, happy that you were actually having your night of romance. But you were also just as excited for the ass-slapping, deep-thrusting punishment you would receive as soon as Rick was freed.

And though Rick would deny it later, you could've sworn that, after you had drifted off to the sound of Rick's heart, you felt his hand, having somehow escaped their restraints, lightly petting your head while he softly gazed at you in the dark. However, Rick said this was just some strange dream you had had, and refused to speak another word about that night.


	3. Saving you

Rick stepped into the shower, blasting hot water onto his aching shoulder blades. He pressed his forehead, throbbing from a bad hangover, against a cold, tile wall. It had been days since he had talked to you, and your last discussion had been anything but perfect. When you attempted to sputter out your feelings to him, Rick sent you out - yelling about how you were just some "air headed bitch" that wasn't pretty enough for him. Now, with scalding water running down his spine, he let out a shaky breath - recalling that the biggest lie he ever told was saying you weren't enough for someone like him. He felt something between his legs twitch when he thought of you; your fine, blonde hair: brushing against his cheek when you had carried him into his bed after he had spent a weekend partying. Your slender fingers: intertwining with his ragged hands when you were scared. Your vibrant eyes: lighting up whenever he said something outrageous. Despite his gut wrenching every single time he resisted from hungrily slamming his chapped lips into yours and searching your curves with his calloused hands, he had managed to not drag you down into his fucked up life. And now here he was, consumed in the thought of you. Without even realizing it, his hand had curled around his member. And with every motion, the image of you, writhing beneath him in ecstasy as he desperately slammed himself into you - selfishly making you his and his alone, became clearer and clearer. Rick could feel a spring tightening within his lower abdomen as his thrusting quickened. He let out quick, needy breaths, thinking of the whimper that would escape your lips when he was leaving bruises all along your collarbone. But when the waves of ecstasy did finally run through him, and a hot substances seeped through his slender fingers, he slid to his knees as another feeling took effect: jealousy. The thought of you, in the arms of some burly, hairy , fat fuck, right now, made a rage flare up in Rick's gut, and he thought of tearing off your clothes and fucking you right in front of his opponent - showing everyone that you were his. That he craved your skin most. That he found your taste to be sweetest. And, most of all, showing you that he wanted you. Needed you. But that couldn't happen. Because as much as he wanted to learn every inch of you, he also had to save you. From his enemies, from his dangerous adventures, and most of all, from himself.


	4. Business trip

You don't know how it happened, when it happened, or why you let yourself do this. But you had fallen in love with Rick Sanchez: an unstable, cynical alcoholic. You had a boyfriend. A nice, friendly, sweet boyfriend. He pulled your chair out for you before you sat, and called you beautiful even when you had the flu. But you found your heart racing over the thought of Rick, and he was on your mind all the time - even when your boyfriend was flopping his sweaty body around on yours.  
You were the personal assistant to Flesh Curtains soundtrack producer, Daniel Curtz, which was a nice job. You got to meet famous musicians all the time, many of them having loud, enchanting personalities that would sweep you up and talk you to luxurious after parties. But Rick's was so loud, that is was deafening. It was well known that you and Rick were quite a tumultuous duo. Usually, you wouldn't really have to interact too much with a musician unless you wanted to. But Rick, feeling the need to pick on the only female in the whole studio, would have you working 24/7. From fetching coffee at 3 A.M. to asking you to buy a "special " brand of flour at the back of a grocery store (which turned out to be cocaine), Rick made you do it all. But what you were even more known for, amongst, the studio was not taking shit from anyone. You weren't necessarily sassy or hot tempered, but you were certainly no doormat. So every time you poured hot coffee on an ungrateful Rick, or spewed out wise cracks to the rude insults he said to you, he seemed to only become more determined to ruin you.  
One day, Rick's antics stopped being annoying, and you even begin to appreciate him. His oddness became familiar in the fact that they were weird, and returning to normalcy, a job where people actually treated you kindly - normally - like a stranger, seemed to be completely mundane. And soon after that, you fell for him.  
You denied such feelings for the longest of time. Instead of even thinking about Rick, you focused more on your boyfriend. You brought him to the office. You took sick days just to be with him. You always ended your conversations with Rick early so you could talk with your boyfriend. But instead of it reigniting the old passion you had for him, it only reminded you how dull he was in comparison to Rick. Not many carried the same vigor, wit, and fire that Rick did. It was because of that, that Rick was such a good musician - and lover. Many times, groupies had told you how good "between the sheets" Rick was. And every time, you had gagged in disgust. But, now that you found your boyfriend's thrusting to be as pitiful as his wisecracks, you couldn't help but think back to the things those busty groupies had gushed about.  
"He's an absolute ANIMAL. Tore off my clothes and pinned me to the floor. We didn't even make it to the bed because he was so thirsty. "  
"He's into some real weird shit. But, ya know, a good kind of weird. Whips and chains and oh my."  
"He slammed into me until my thighs were raw."  
Some of the descriptions were a bit too graphic, you admit. But, right now, you were eternally grateful for all their raunchiness. Because those detailed descriptions offered the most sexual thoughts you had had on your entire weekend with your boyfriend. And now, you were to go on a business trip to an awards ceremony that had nominated Flesh Curtains. How the fuck were you suppose to avoid Rick then? You would literally be spending an entire week with him.

When leaving day finally did roll around, you found yourself just straight up giving Rick the silent treatment. It wasn't even your choice to. Every time Rick came up to you, to say his usual offensive insult or joke, you would suddenly clamp up, your palms sweating and your heart racing. With as much effort as you could muster, you would release an awkward chuckle or some sort of nod - but that was it! And, God, it was so cringe worthy seeing the shock on Rick's face when you didn't have your own sharp retort. After the fifth or forth time, he just gave up. And by the time you two had boarded the private plane headed for the ceremony's location, you two weren't even speaking. Occasionally, he would catch you glancing over at him - to your absolute mortification. And, sometimes, you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your head. But when you turned around, he wasn't looking at you. Actually, it was worse. He was looking at two tarts that he had brought along on the plane, who giggled at everything he said. A pang of jealousy filled your gut, giving you some sort of pain in your throat - as if you were just about to sob. But then your boyfriend sent you a text: "i miss u babe", and you were met with a whole other pain: guilt.  
The awards ceremony had just finished. You had watched all of it, alongside your boss and the studio sound engineers, on the tv in your hotel room. Despite the turmoil you had been going through all day, you were having a fun time now. Popcorn was made, beers were poured, and the ceremony was fun to watch. Even though Flesh Curtains had lost, their performance on stage was well received. Particularly towards Rick, he cleaned up well, with his suit and slicked back hair. After screaming into the microphone, his dark strands began to fall in front of his eyes, and, again, you felt that familiar pang of both attraction and guilt.  
While you and the others were cleaning up bowls of popcorn, Rick burst into the room, a groupies on each hip and an entourage of musicians behind him.  
"Wubba lubba dub dub, bitches! How's it -burp- hanging!"  
He was met with a collective greeting. After announcing that all drinks at the bar were on him, the room slowly emptied, leaving a wake of kernel filled bowls. The only remaining people were you, Rick, and his giggling groupies. Though your back was turned to the three, you could see, in the window reflection, Rick whisper in the girls wars before they both exited. He stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, while you stacked more bowls into a pile.  
"S-so, uh, I probably just PMS-ing or w-what-burp-ever, but, uh, you ok? Y-you haven't been really-really friendly lately."  
You tried to speak, but your throat catch due to the rapid flapping of butterflies in your stomach. So you turned around and nodded, with a small smile, before turning away again. In the window's reflection, you saw his expression harden to frustration and he calmly threw a lamp down onto the floor - it's loud crash causing you to whip around.  
"What the fuck, man! I have to pay for that!"  
"F-Finally! That's the girl I know!"  
"Fuck off, Rick.", you murmured, sweeping up the broken shards at his feet with a stray magazine. Too focused on your cleaning, you didn't see him angrily swoop down to push your shoulders into a wall.  
"What the fuck is going on, y/n!? I don't like p-people who fricken play g-games with me! So what the hell is your deal!"  
"Nothing, Rick! Just leave me alone!"  
"W-what? Have you -burp- suddenly decided your too good for me?! I-I'm too unworthy to even be in your presence! Huh!? I-is that it!?"  
"No, Rick! Oh my god, it's nothing like that! I swear!"  
"Then-then, what!? Huh!?"  
"I…", you trailed off, unsure if you should do this. Because as soon as you said this, nothing would ever be the same again.  
"What is it!?", he yelled, pressing his palms harder into your shoulders.  
"I-i like you Rick! And you know…the 'bad' kinda like. The kind that's really, really bad when you have a boyfriend."  
Your voice cracked near the end there, and you looked down at your feet - ashamed and humiliated, especially with Rick's gaze on you. And then, with even more force than before, you were pushed onto a bed, with Rick's lips on yours soon after. Hungrily, he tore into your mouth, his hands desperately pulling and tugging at your hair and clothes, as if trying to remember their texture. He felt and squeezed every curve of your body, before kissing and biting your collar bone -leaving purple hickies in his wake. You could feel his unshaven chin scratching into your skin, and the warmth of his searing lips on your jaw line. You were panting now, tugging at his dark hair as if pulling the reins of a horse. And then, abruptly, your phone went off with a text from your boyfriend, telling you could night.  
"R-Rick, wait."  
"You-you want me t-to stop!?", he rasped, removing his lips from your neck. You sat up, pulling back up the straps of your sundress.  
"Yes. But no. Yes and no. I just…I can't cheat on my boyfriend. I can't do that to someone. Especially to someone who's so good to me. I mean, you are the one I want. But I'm still…caring towards him. And, I mean, I don't even know if you're..as serious as I am right now. I…I'm not willing to end my relationship for just a fling, Rick."  
Your chest was pounding, and your lips were buzzing from the beating Rick had just given them. You must've looked absolutely terrified in the moment. And, which you soon realized, so did Rick. Lifting himself off of you, he took your hands I his own large, calloused palms, and kissed your knuckles before murmuring,"Honestly, I don't want you to ever leave my arms again."  
A liberating feeling of relief welled up inside you, and you threw your arms around Rick, kissing his neck and giggling over the weight that had just flown off your shoulders. Wrapping his arms around you, Rick laid down on the pillows, allowing you two to rest comfortably. You peppered a few more kisses in his face before saying, "But I won't sleep with you. Not until I break up with my boyfriend."  
"What!? Why!?"  
"If I sleep with you, then I've straight up cheated on him."  
"O-oh, so what you -burp- think what we're doing right now isn't considered cheating."  
"Well, it is. But I do this with my platonic friends. Granted, we're both straight and we did more as a joke - but I've still done it with platonic friends. And he was fine with that."  
"Well, then what are we going to do tonight?"  
"I dunno. But, please, don't leave. I know I'm not sleeping with you, but I just want you to stay. "  
"Y-yeah, I'll stay. I'll stay all night. I'll stay all week. I-I'll just…stay."  
"Good.", you said, placing your head in the crook of his neck. And before you even knew it, you had drifted off to the sound of his heart beat.

Rick's hushed whispering of your name woke you up. In the pitch dark, you groggily responded to his calls.  
"Hey, hey, sweetie. I-I need to ask you something."  
"What, Rick?"  
"W-w-when did you-you know?"  
"Know what?"  
"T-that you -urp- liked me, huh?"  
Even with all your tiredness, you still tried your hardest to pinpoint an exact moment.  
"I dunno. I suppose a hinting of romantic feelings began…after that time Curtz's friend was such a douch to me. I mean, God, he was such a dick. He literally said that I must be on my period because I was acting so stupid and not all of the blood was reaching my head or whatever. And Curtz didn't even defend me because this guy was such a hit shot with advertising. And then when you came in, I was so afraid you were going to join in with him. And you did, you ass - until he took it too far and started calling me stupid. And you…you stool up for me. And that meant a lot. It showed you had heart. And that you looked down on me, but not for being…female. And, I dunno, I didn't express it well enough, but I was in awe. That meant so much to me. Nobody's ever defended me like that before. What about you? When did you know?"  
"I-I would have to say it occurred pretty e-early on. About a month after -burp- meeting you. Granted, I-i-I did not like you. At first. But it was this day that it has rained really heavily and everyone went outside because we-we were so sick of being cooped up. And I had this girl with me. Brianna? Bianca? Something-something with a-a "B". But, yeah, she was hella annoying. Kept on complaining about all the worms and mud and shit. And then I looked up and y-y-you were just laughing and fooling around. Jumping from puddle to puddle. A-and you were covered in mud and shit, but you didn't e-even care. You were -burp- you were just…happy. And you looked so-so beautiful. I don't know why. You just did."  
You were blushing now, burying your nose into his neck. With your palms on his chest, you could now feel that he was shirtless, and a chill ran down your spine.  
"Rick?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Did you ever…think of me?"  
"W-what do ya mean?"  
"You know. Did you ever, like, get off. To the thought of me."  
In the dark, you could only see his silhouette really. But even then, his face and body remained still. Only his heart began to race.  
"Yeah", he rasped."I did"  
"What did you think of?"  
"Y-you. Obviously. But, you under-underneath me. Squirming. Writhing. You were-you were moaning my name."  
Rick's hand slipped under his belt as he spoke. You squeezed his wrist, in affirmation, before unzipping your dress and slipping it off. Now in nothing but your underwear, you pressed your chest against his, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact. He wrapped his arm around you and stroked your back before going. Underneath his tough voice, you could hear the sound of his member being pulled up and down.  
"And I was j-just desperate to make you cum. I was th-thrusting into you as hard and as fast as I could, sand I could feel myself go breathless and sweaty and weak. But you still hadn't c-cum. And I-I-I…"  
Rick's voice cracked as a moan escaped him, and his wrist furiously pumped away. You bite and kissed at his neck, your wrist traveling down his lean torso. At his naval, a hot substance was spritzed onto you wrist and Rick's panting slowed down. He gave you one last, long slow kiss, before falling asleep with his forehead against yours and his dick still out of his pants.

Come morning time, you were sure to call your boyfriend.


	5. Vampire Rick

With a searing sweetness to it, the feeling of Rick's sharp fangs scraping your neck made you shiver. His hand was clasped on your neck, the thumb reaching over to trace your parted lips. But as Rick always did, his fangs would only brush the skin, leaving a faint, irritated, red line - but never actually breaking skin. And then, his hot breath trailing up from your collarbone to jaw - he would finally ravage your lips, leaving them raw, swollen, and red.

You were once just an assistant at his laboratory - always smart, always sharp, always willing to call Rick out on his shit. You two could have some of the most competitive battles of wit - each exchanging a comment snarkier, and smarter, than the last - but these battles ended being some of the most exhilarating things Rick had ever enjoyed - well, before you two ended up having your fling. But before that point, the two of you were quite open about the fact that you loathed each other. Anytime your name was brought up in a sentence, he made sure to say it with absolute distaste. And when you saw each other, you would never say pleasant greetings, like normal folk, but instead say things like "Morning, dipwad" or "Hey, asshat". You had even punched him once, so hard that his fang went crooked, after he had lowered your salary - as a cruel joke. When he was down his knees, covering his swollen lip, he was also hiding his devious smile, which formed after he realized just how potently beautiful you were when absolutely pissed.

When Rick found himself needing a "blood donor", due to his previous one contracting HIV after a night in Atlantica, the last person he ever thought of to ask was you. You had made it very clear, in the past, that the only piece of your skin Rick's tooth would ever touch was that of your fist - while it imploded into his mouth. But when you had found him, belly down and shivering with cold sweats on the office floor, you immediately held out your wrist. Begging him, with tears in your eyes, to stop trying being a hero and just take a sip, he finally suck his teeth in - wincing at your inhale due to the pain. Your taste was the absolute sweetest, and it lingered for days.

That was how your role as Rick's blood donor began. In the beginning, he would only require you to hold out your wrist once every week, he would sip, and it would be over. But, as time went on, Rick, one day, toar his teeth away from your hand and, with a disgusted tone, complained about how he could taste your excessive drinking of Saturday. After that, Rick began to control your diet - ensuring that you ate lots of iron-rich foods and making sure you didn't drink too much. And, after he started complaining that he the perfume you would place on your wrist was far too bitter, he took to chomping into your neck.

You knew, early on, that most of this was a ruse - as your placed perfume on your neck as well. But, when Rick would bite into that area, you could feel him sharply inhale the smell of your hair, and the warmth of his body, standing behind you, was just an intoxicating comfort. When he would drink too much, causing you to become faint, his arms, strong and sturdy, would wrap around your waist - keeping you from hitting the floor. Sometimes, you would arch your head back, letting it rest on his shoulder as his hands ran down your hips. You could hear his sharp inhale, clearly down out of arousal, when you let out a small moan from your parted lips. And then, as if none of that had even occurred, you walked away, slipping on your coat, and leaving the laboratory.

As you were placing your keys into your car, the cold night nipping away at your now blood drained face, you felt a hand violently at your shoulder, flip you around, and press you into your car. For a brief moment, the gut knotting fear that some creep was going to violate filled your throat. But when the stranger's lips hungrily crashed into yours, you were instantly comforted by the sharp feeling of fangs scraping your bottom lip. Rick's hands, ones that once smoothly ran down your hips, now pinned your wrists - still scarred with bite marks - against the car door. He pressed his chest into yours, as if trying to mold your two bodies together, and left searing kisses down your throat - making sure to tease the tender area that he had just bitten into.

Your hands, somehow managing to escape their capture, began to rub at the slight bulge beneath his dark pants. It didn't matter that you were standing in a dimly lit parking lot - in winter, no less - you needed him now. The thought of having to sit idly in a car and walk up a flight of stairs before completely ravaging the other was so tortuous that you didn't even consider it. Due to your urging, Rick briefly parted from your now throbbing, tender lips, not breaking his stare through half-lidded, lusting eyes, as he toar of his belt and unzipped his pants. While one hand pulled out his pulsating member, the other wrapped around your ass, lifting you up against the car. Gladly, you wrapped your legs around his waist - grateful that you had worn a dress to work today - and was now wedged between him and your car.

Rick, with his chest so tightly pressed against yours, could feel your heart racing against his rib cage - only proving that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He felt a barrier between your searing core, and, impatiently, ripped off your panties - not wanting to waste another second. He mercilessly punished you with long, hard thrusts, that jolted you more and more into a state of euphoria until you found yourself squealing out a slew of cuss words. His hands wildly roamed your figure, so agitated that they couldn't even rest on a single spot. He was far too desperate to touch all of you to even consider not going over every inch of your flesh. Such frantic touching didn't cease until Rick, as well, was letting out hot, breathy, rough moans in your ear. Both of your hearts were racing now, and the pleasure of it all was blindingly hot - to the point that you couldn't even really open your eyes.

That's when everything slowed. Rick backed away slightly, so as to allow your feet to touch the ground again, but pressed right back into you as soon as you were steady. This time, the kisses were far more tender, sweet, even romantic - rather than feverish and torrid. He peppered you with long, soft kisses across the bridge of your nose - treating you as if you were a delicate flower. With hunched shoulders, his hands cupped your face, giving you a few steady, languid kisses - and his need for you just radiated off of him. And to think this was the same man who had ravaged you so violently!

For Rick, his heart was a sopping, wet rag right now. His throat was clenching, barely able to even form words when he huskily murmured "You're so-so beautiful. God, thank you. Thank you. You're so beautiful. W-why are you so perfect?". The night, with all it's licentious, and even tender, escapades ended with your foreheads pressed together, staring into each other's loving eyes - not sure what was going to happen, and, frankly, not caring. As long as you were together, that's all that mattered.


End file.
